


Love is Fatal, Won't You Give it a Chance?

by archersand



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Bullying, Gangster Ashton Irwin, Gun Violence, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Young Michael
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-24
Updated: 2020-09-05
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:29:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 8,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25945135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/archersand/pseuds/archersand
Summary: After accidentally overhearing a conversation between several gangsters, Michael grows closer to one in particular. It seems impossible to figure out, is Ashton as brutal as he sometimes seems or as kind?It didn’t help that it had started raining. So now Michael was soaked through, his hair dripping down the collar of his jean jacket, his socks squelching in his shoes with each running step he took.Those assholes from his school could have caught him in a heartbeat and the fact that they were playing this cat and mouse with him was almost as humiliating as everything that was surely about to follow.He ducked down an alleyway and saw the backdoor to the restaurant he’d just run past propped open. Michael wasn’t thinking. He just pushed his way in.
Relationships: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the 10 Things 5 Seconds of Summer Can't Live Without video on Youtube. Specifically, the person who commented: "why do calum and ashton look like two italian middle-age mobsters"
> 
> I envisioned Michael as a senior in High School for this story and Ashton and Calum a couple years older. It's up to you, however you would like to picture them.

It didn’t help that it had started raining. So now Michael was soaked through, his hair dripping down the collar of his jean jacket, his socks squelching in his shoes with each running step he took. 

Those assholes from his school could have caught him in a heartbeat and the fact that they were playing this cat and mouse with him was almost as humiliating as everything that was surely about to follow.   
He ducked down an alleyway and saw the backdoor to the restaurant he’d just run past propped open. Michael wasn’t thinking. He just pushed his way in. 

Inside, it was warm, the hallway lit by fancy, dimmed overhead lights. Someone was coming down the hallway, Michael could hear their footsteps. He went further inside, intending to just find a place to hide out until his classmates gave up on finding him. The room he found himself in was clearly for special events, all the tables covered in white tablecloths that looked like they’d been measured to be precisely even. But luck was just clearly not on his side, the footsteps were coming closer to the room. Michael dived under the closest table, a 6-top and yanked his bag closer to him. 

Whoever they were, they came into the room and Michael saw the chairs of his table being pulled back. Michael internally shrieked every curse word he’d ever heard, stringing them together into one as he pushed his body as far away as possible from the three men now sitting at his table. Not 6 people at least, thank god. 

“When will Irwin be joining us?” One voice said, rough. They were all wearing suits with shiny black shoes. They placed their drink orders. Fancy things Michael had only heard in movies. Martinis and top shelf whiskey. 

“Any minute. He’s never late.” 

“Think he’s in on the deal?” 

“Oh yeah. He wouldn’t have agreed to the meeting if he wasn’t going to say yes. He doesn’t waste time like that.” 

They were interrupted by their drinks being brought to the table and then further interrupted by someone else arriving. Irwin, apparently. The newcomer placed his own drink order and then sat down. He wasn’t dressed like the rest. He was wearing dark skinny jeans with ripped knees and heavy boots. Michael lost a few minutes debating whether he should get out from under the table and admit he was there before it was too late or if it was too late already. He zoned back into the conversation to hear them discussing moving product and decided there was no way he could get out now. 

“We agree the product will never be dropped on my streets. Your people will courier it through and not make a single stop.” Irwin was saying. 

“Of course.” One of the business men was saying. 

“If I hear your people are causing any trouble in my area, that’s it, that’s the end of our partnership.”

“Fuck, Irwin, yes. That’s the deal.” But they didn’t seem to be surprised. 

“I want 25% of the profits off the product.”

“Don’t be greedy. 5%.” 

“You don’t be greedy. 20.”

“10.” 

“15.”

“12.” 

“Deal.” Irwin sounded pleased. Michael imagined them shaking hands above the table. 

This is it, Michael thought relieved. He could sneak away as soon as they leave. His shoulders felt sore already from being tensed so long. His wet shirt clinging to him was making him shiver uncontrollably. Then, a clattering, Irwin’s napkin floated down to the ground looking so deceptively innocent in it’s white lightness. Maybe it will be fine, Michael thought frantically. Maybe he won’t get it. Maybe he won’t see-those thoughts were devastated by Irwin leaning his whole body down, looking under the table, locking eyes with Michael. 

He wasn’t what Michael expected, Michael’s brain supplied unhelpfully through panic. He was young, only a little older than Michael. His eyes looked dark in the lowlights of the room. Michael’s body tensed even more, every muscle ready for anything that might happen. Irwin’s eyes were staring into his so intently for what seemed an eternity. Then, he grabbed his napkin from where it’d fallen and straightened back above the table. 

“Hey, I saw a Firebird parked out front. That yours?”

“Yeah, out of the shop just last week.” 

“Nice. Mind if I have a look? I’ve always loved those cars. If we’re done here, I mean.” 

They rose together. Michael listened to them discussing different kinds of cars but their voices quickly faded down the hall. Michael gave it another minute, then made for the door he’d come in through what seemed like a million years ago. 

“What are you doing back here,” the waiter, grabbing his arm. Michael almost cried, the door was right there. 

“Just lost,” he tried. “I get so turned around-”

“Really? You expect me to believe that? That someone like you would be at this restaurant?”

“Hey!” Michael tried for indignance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Let’s go see the owner then, yeah? You can tell him what table you belong to.” The waiter began pulling Michael along by the hand clamped bruisingly tight around his bicep.

They didn’t make it far before a hand on the waiter’s shoulder stopped him. Irwin, smiling despite the circumstances. “Oh hey, you found my cousin, thanks.” 

Both the waiter and Michael were dumbfounded by this statement. 

“Cousin?” The waiter recovered first. 

“Could get lost on the way to his own bathroom, that’s what we always say, right Jon-O?”

Oh, Michael thought, that’s meant to be me. Jon-O. “Right. Sorry.” 

Irwin put one arm around his shoulders, leading Michael towards the front of the restaurant, away from the waiter. 

“Come on, kid. Let’s get out of here,” he whispered to the top of Michael’s head. “Christ,” he said as they hit the outside air and he began shaking out a cigarette. At least it wasn’t raining anymore. “Care to explain what just happened?”

“I was trying to get out of the rain. I didn’t realize that was like, a capital offense.” Michael’s stupid mouth said before he remembered Irwin was probably dangerous. Michael took a careful step away from him. 

Irwin just looked amused though. “Next time, maybe don’t pick the place gangsters hang out.”

“Noted.”

“Well, better get on home now.” Irwin gestured with the lit end of his cigarette, even though he couldn’t know what way Michael needed to go. “Surely that was enough excitement for any human.” 

“Um, like. Thanks I guess.” Michael took another two steps away.

“Yeah, yeah.” Irwin said around the cigarette held between his teeth. “No rest for the wicked and all that.” 

“Ok.” Michael turned to go off down the street. He looked back before he crossed. Irwin was walking the opposite direction, his cigarette marking him in the encroaching darkness. Michael turned the corner, rung out his hair with fingers combed through sodden strands. Thought to himself, thank god I’ll never see any of those people again. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello! This is my second story on this platform and honestly I still have no idea what I'm doing! Please let me know if I'm like tagging something wrong or doing these notes wrong (seriously, my first story the notes ramble like nobodies business). 
> 
> This chapter contains some depictions of violence and bullying so please be kind of yourself if that's difficult for you to read.

Another day, another run through the streets, Michael thought grimly as he swung around a corner. The two assholes behind him were laughing and calling out obscenities. There was really no reason to run, they would catch him easily eventually, except that some days they got bored of chasing him and held off for another day. 

People on the sidewalk mostly got out of his way. He yelled apologies behind him as he ran. He passed someone vaguely familiar, a blur of hair and clothes, as familiar as a smear of a shape could be. 

Half a block later, they caught up to him, pulling him by his arms into the alley nearby. They weren’t even breathing hard. They were still laughing. 

“Well, I bet that’s the most exercise you’ve gotten all week, huh?” the taller one said pinching at his side. The other one twisted his arm behind his back, kicking at the back of his knees, forcing Michael’s legs to give out.

“Can we just get this over with?” Michael tried for a put upon sigh. “This is getting tedious.” 

“How’s this for tedious?” The one holding his wrist twisted it cruelly further into the small of his back, his knee digging into Michael’s kidney.

There was a horrible scraping pop. Michael couldn’t restrain the sound he made. It tore out of him, loud and pitiful. 

“Shut up.” The tall one swung his fist into Michael’s face. The pain of it connecting with his cheekbone flared higher than his shoulder for only a moment before taking a backseat to it. He pulled back for another punch. Michael prepared himself for it best he could. 

“What the fuck is going on?” a new voice coming from the entryway of the alley. Michael couldn’t see at first, his whole vision blocked by the boy in front of him. But then he moved to look, giving Michael a clear view too. It was the man from the restaurant, Irwin, wearing a leather jacket and the same black jeans. He looked more angry than anyone Michael had ever seen. 

“None of you business, man.” the one holding his arm said. As he said it, he shifted Michael’s arm a little bit. Michael couldn’t stop himself whimpering. 

“Yeah, actually it fucking is. You think you can do this shit on my streets?” Irwin was stalking closer. His hands were closed into fists. 

The taller boy took a step forward, the idiot. “You can’t tell us-”

That was as far as he got. Irwin leveled him to the ground with one hard punch that cracked across his face. It made what the boy had done to Michael look like nothing. Irwin drug him back to his feet, slamming him into the dusty brick of the alley’s wall. One hand circled the boy’s throat. In his other hand he produced a knife from his pocket, the blade flaring open. 

“Oh my God, I’m sorry,” the boy was crying. “I didn’t mean it. Please don’t.” 

“Tell your friend to let him go.” Irwin held the knife up to his left eye, it’s point just centimeters away. 

The friend didn’t need to be told. He immediately dropped Michael’s arm, stepping away. Without him holding Michael up, Michael curled into a ball on the ground. 

“I don’t think I can make this more clear.” Irwin pressed the point of the knife into the skin under his eye just a little. Not even enough to make it bleed, just enough to bring home the threat of it. “If I hear even a rumor that you’ve been hurting this kid ever again, I will find you and I will finish this. Understood?” 

The boy couldn’t nod. Instead he mumbled. “Yeah, yeah, yeah.”

Irwin shifted his eyes to the other friend, raising one brow. “How ‘bout you?”

“I got it.” 

“Good.” He dropped his hand from the boy’s throat, stepped back. The knife disappeared. “Get the fuck out of here.” 

They both took off running. 

Irwin watched them for a minute before turning back to Michael. Michael was cradling his arm best he could in front of himself, still trying to make his body as small as possible. Irwin knelt down in front of him, right there in the dirt and grime of the alley. 

“You alright, kid?” He sounded like a completely different person. His voice was soft and so so gentle.

“I’m not that much younger than you,” Michael’s brain for some reason thought it was appropriate to say. 

Irwin chuckled, then sobered. He reached out to touch Michael’s shoulder but Michael flinched away which caused him to make another embarrassingly pained sound. 

“It’s ok,” Irwin said soothingly, “I’m not going to hurt you. I just want to help.” 

He stretched out his hand again. Michael made himself stay still this time, let his gentle fingers feel where the joint was jutting out from the socket. 

“Dislocated. I know someone who can fix it, if you want?” 

Michael tried to imagine going home like this. What his mother would say. Nevermind the bruise he knew was rising on his face, something he wouldn’t be able to hide. 

“Ok.” Michael said. 

Irwin smiled. It struck Michael like whiplash, the difference between this person and the one who’d had a knife out only moments ago. 

“My friend’s in school to be a doctor. He’s the best. He’ll fix you right up.” Irwin was helping Michael to his feet, slinging Michael’s good arm around one shoulder, half carrying him along. “We’ll go to the restaurant right here. I’ll call him and he’ll come. Maybe then we can have some food when it’s done, too. It’s a good restaurant, don’t worry. Not like the last one we went to.” 

He had been wondering if Irwin recognized him. There was that answered. “Not a place where gangsters hang out?” 

“Just one.” Irwin gave a little laugh at his own joke. He navigated them both down the street, down another alley. Michael felt a little disoriented, the world a strangely shifting place in the face of this new development. Especially when Irwin opened a door in the alley, ushering him into the bustling kitchen of a Chinese restaurant. He started speaking to an older woman leaning over the stove in Manderin, the pace faster than anything Michael had a prayer of following. They were led to sit at a rickety table off to the side and the woman pressed a towel wrapped around ice cubes into Michael’s hand. 

She gestured to his face, “For the bruise.” 

Irwin seemed to have gone somewhere. Michael lost track of him. 

“Where’d he go?” 

“He’s calling the Hood boy to come help you.” She smiled at him kindly. “He said you got in a fight.” She gestured some more to the towel he still held until he lifted it to his face. She clucked her tongue. “You shouldn’t get in fights. Your face is nice how it is.” 

“Thanks,” Michael could only think of saying.

“I’ll come check on you later.” She turned back to the rest of her kitchen staff. 

Irwin came back, sat across from him. “He’s coming.” He took the towel from Michael’s hand to examine the bruise before replacing it. He kept his hand on it, a move that was very confusing to Michael’s already scattered thoughts. 

“Why were they doing this to you?” 

Michael swallowed, tried to shrug only one shoulder, regretted it. “They’re assholes.” 

“Ok, but why be an asshole to you specifically?” 

“Pick a reason.” Michael tried to snort without moving his cheek, regretted that too. “I’m gay. I’m a poor kid on scholarship to their rich kid school. I don’t look like them. I don’t act like them.” 

“Hmmm.” Irwin took this all in stride. “Am I right in thinking they had something to do with you being under that table the other night?” 

“Sort of.” 

He tried not to focus on the fact that Irwin hadn’t moved his hand away even after hearing that Michael was gay. It didn’t have to mean anything to feel comforting. 

He looked down at his school uniform shirt, the entire sleeve was smeared with mud and ripped at the cuff. “Ah, shit. Not again. These cost like, 50 bucks. My mom’s going to kill me.” 

Irwin considered that. “If you want.” he paused. “I have a job you could do. If you want to make some money. Twice a month, 50 bucks cash each time.”

Michael blinked. “Why?” 

“Seems like fate, us running into each other again. Might as well take advantage of it.” Irwin grinned at him. 

Michael thought. He did really need the money but. “Um. If it’s like. Hurting people? I don’t do that.” 

The look on Irwin’s face was hard to read. “Ok. Anything else you don’t do?” 

“Like. Sex stuff.” Michael felt his cheeks going red. “And like, anything with drugs.” 

Irwin seemed strangely charmed by this. “What an order to put that list in. Ok. No hurting anyone, no sex, no drugs. Deal.” He stretched his hand not holding the ice across the table. Michael shook it awkwardly. “I’m Ashton.” 

“Really?” Michael couldn’t keep from saying. “I thought your name was Irwin.” 

“Oh it is,” Ashton, a name which fit him far better, was smiling again, “First name Ashton, last name Irwin.”

“Oh,” Michael felt a bit dumb. “I’m Michael.”

“Nice to meet you, Michael.” 

“Ashton,” a young woman leaned around the corner.

“Yup?” 

“Calum’s here.” She said.

“Great! Send him back.” Ashton set the towel down on the table. Michael touched the place the ice had been and couldn’t feel his fingertips on his own chilled skin. 


	3. Chapter 3

Calum was too handsome to be a doctor. Michael tried to imagine telling someone that attractive his physical calamities and couldn’t picture it. Luckily, what was wrong with him was pretty obvious. Calum tilted Michael’s face up towards the light.

“Well shit. That will be a pretty spectacular black eye.” He did have a very kind face, his eyes warm in the kitchen light. That would surely come in handy when he was a doctor. “Make all the girls swoon, that will.”

“Not really in my interests.” Michael admitted, making Ashton snort from where he’d leaned up against the wall. 

Calum had moved on to investigating his arm. He touched it just as gently as Ashton had. “Ok, it’s going to hurt like a bitch, putting that thing back. But only for like a second and then it will feel way better. I have a sling you can wear for a couple of days while it’s sore.”

“Hurt like a bitch? Is that what they teach you to say in medical school?” Michael asked. 

Calum laughed. “I’m doing triage in the kitchen of a restaurant. I didn’t think this was the time or place for technical terms.” He dipped into his bag and extracted a pair of scissors. “I’m going to have to cut through your shirt though.” 

“It’s ok.” Michael sighed sadly, even though he’d already accepted it. “It’s ruined anyway.” 

Calum cut through the sleeve and shoulder. It made Michael’s stomach churn, seeing the harsh way his shoulder seemed to jut out at a ninety degree angle from his chest. He grabbed the table with his other hand but then Ashton was there, pulling up another chair at his side, threading their fingers together. 

“Don’t look,” he said. “Just keep looking at me.” 

Calum held out a clean towel, folded long and narrow. “You’re going to want to bite down on this. Like I say it’s going to really hurt for a second and there’s people out there trying to eat dinner.”

Ashton frowned at Calum while Michael sunk his teeth into the towel. “Was that a necessary comment, Calum?”

“Oh yeah. Definitely yes.” Calum took a breath to prepare himself which did nothing for Michael’s heart rate which was racing quicker and quicker. “Here we go.” 

“Look at me, Michael.” Ashton took his attention back, his hands surrounding Michael’s, one above and one below. “Just squeeze my hand, hard as you’d like. I don’t mind.” 

“One.” Calum counted. “Two.” And then, there on two, pulled with a sharp tug and twist of Michael’s forearm. The pain was enormous for a single second, Michael’s world narrowing to clenching of his teeth into the towel, the digging of his fingers into Ashton’s hand. Then the pain dissipating, the world widening back out. Calum was gently massaging the spot on his shoulder, Ashton was smiling at him. 

“You did so good.” Ashton said, taking the towel out of his mouth, throwing it in the direction of what must have been a laundry bag. 

“You fucker,” Michael gasped at Calum. “I hope when you become a doctor you get nothing but like, rectal exams.” 

“I’m sorry,” Calum said, but he also laughed. “Here, have some ibuprofen. Can we be friends now?” 

“No.” Michael said, but he took the ibuprofen, swallowing it down with a glass of water. 

Calum cut through the rest of the shirt, leaving Michael feeling exposed and ridiculous, a shirtless person in the kitchen of a Chinese restaurant. Ashton must have sensed this because, after Calum threaded his arm into a sling, he took off his leather jacket and draped it around Michael’s shoulders. 

“Let’s get you home, yeah?” he said. 

“I didn’t get any food.” Michael knew his voice probably sounded whiny. He felt exhausted suddenly, everything a little bit distant. 

“I told Mei next time. Don’t worry, she’s going to want to feed you all the time.” He maneuvered Michael up to his feet. “Just put it on my tab, Hood.”

“Aye, aye, boss.” Calum gave a little mock solute. Then they were out the door the same way they'd come in, Michael leaning on Ashton even more than he had before. Ashton didn't seem to mind. He just pulled Michael's arm closer around him, pressing them together, finding a rhythm, keeping them moving. 


	4. Chapter 4

Ashton’s car was something small and white, unobtrusive and compact. Nothing like what Michael expected after the car talk he’d overheard from under the restaurant table. When he pointed this out, Ashton just sighed regretfully.

“Someday, maybe.” 

There wasn’t really time to talk. Michael lived, it turned out, only a half dozen blocks from Mei’s restaurant. They were pulling into the dilapidated duplex before there was really any time for real conversation. Michael opened the car door with a complicated move. Everything was more difficult with his arm in the sling. He hated it already. Ashton stopped him before he could get out. 

“Those boys. From your school. You’ll tell me if they try anything.” 

“Really?”

“Are you still coming to work for me?”

“Yeah,” Michael said, trying not to show any trepidation.

“Then, yeah. Nobody hurts my people. It’d be bad for my reputation if it looked like I couldn’t protect you.” 

Michael filed that away to take out and look at later. “Where should I go, for the job? When?” 

“Monday, after you get out of school. Come to Mei’s. I’ll walk you through it. It’s just collection. You’ll be fine. You can give me back my jacket then.” 

Michael had forgotten he was wearing it. “Thanks.” 

“Get going now. It’s late already.” Ashton turned his attention away from Michael. Michael attempted not to be hurt by this dismissal. 

His house was dark, his mom still working. She’d left an opened can of spaghettiOs turned upside down in a pot on the stove. Michael heated it up, ate it straight from the pot while sitting on the worn sofa with some stupid cartoon playing on the tv. He felt about a million years older then when he’d left for school that morning. 

He wasn’t sure where to put Ashton yet, how to hold him in his mind. He’d been so kind at Mei’s, so brutal in the alleyway, so cold discussing illegal activity at the restaurant. 

It wasn’t terribly late yet but Michael dumped the pot into the sink and went to his bedroom anyway. Maybe things would be more clear in the morning, he thought, hanging the leather jacket on the back of his door, easing his arm out of the sling. Maybe it would make sense then. 

Monday, outside Mei’s, Michael decided against going in through the kitchen. 

Inside, the restaurant was decorated with cozy, warm tones. The tables were all empty, it was barely 3:30, not lunch, not dinner. Except for Ashton, sitting alone at the very back. He was looking down at one of the papers in front of him but looked up as Michael made his way over. He smiled. 

“I wondered if I’d see you today.” 

“Said I would be here, didn’t I.” Michael shifted uncomfortably. Ashton straightened all his papers into a stack, gestured for Michael to sit across from him. 

“Your eye’s looking good.” 

“Yeah.” It was. Michael touched it with two fingers. It had darkened to purples and blues but was now on its way out, all yellows and greens. 

“How’s the shoulder?”

“Good too.” Michael rolled it slowly to demonstrate. “I never said thank you to your friend, for helping.”

“I’ll tell him for you.” 

Ashton looked so good, so casual and easy. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His hair flopped a little bit over his forehead. He could’ve been anyone. They could’ve been just meeting for dinner like two normal friends. Except then he said:

“Job’s simple. Collection. Should be done in under an hour.”

“Collecting what?”

“Money.” Ashton slid the top piece of paper on the stack over to Michael. “For protection. Go to these spots. Tell them your name. They’ll be expecting you.”

“Protection from what?” He didn’t know if he should be asking, if he really wanted to know.

“Everything.” Ashton said. “Whatever they need.”

“Will they be upset, to pay?”

“No. They all know you’re coming. They won’t give you any trouble. If they do, which they won’t, just leave and tell me about it later. But they won’t. Come back here after.” 

Michael took the list. There were maybe 15 or 20 addresses listed. “Will Mei give me something to eat when I get back?”

Ashton’s serious expression cracked open. “Not today. Don’t worry. It’ll come.”

The job was easy. Michael walked into the hardware store, the liquor store, the beauty parlor, up and down the streets. They had the envelopes all ready, sealed and waiting under their countertops. Ashton barely looked at him when he got back. Just accepted the envelopes and handed him back two twenties and a ten in return. 

“I’ll see you in two weeks?” he said. 

“Ok.” Michael answered back. The weight of the money was heavier in his pocket then it should’ve been. His fingers itched. He wanted to spend it immediately, wanted to go back to the candy store where he’d picked up an envelope just 20 minutes earlier and buy bags of taffy and liquorice. Not even because he liked it, just because he could. 

But he forced himself to go home, to fold the money up small and hide it in his sock drawer. It wasn’t till he looked up from doing this that he realized Ashton’s jacket was still hanging on the back of his door. He hadn’t brought it to give back and Ashton hadn’t asked. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, hello! I've had a couple days off work so suddenly this story is coming together. I hope you like it, whoever you are out there!

After three months of doing collections, Michael could do the entire circle of businesses in less than half an hour. He didn’t even go to Mei’s beforehand anymore, only stopped by after to drop off the money and collect his payment. Sometimes, Mei gave him to-go containers filled with steaming noodle dishes, egg rolls and rice. She never asked him to sit down and eat and neither did Ashton. 

The food was amazing. 

One Friday, Michael extracted two twenties from his growing stash and took himself to the bar where he’d collected an envelope earlier that same week. The bartender recognized him. He didn’t even ask to see an ID, just slid him the requested Blue Moon with a look of deep judgement. 

“Aren’t you a little young for this place?” a voice asked. 

Michael swung around and there was Ashton, with that same amused look on his face that Michael had been missing. 

“I’m not that much younger than you.” Michael said, as if they had inside jokes. But Ashton laughed as if he got it too. 

Ashton slid onto the stool next to him. The bartender gave him a glass of something without even asking. “Is that my jacket?”

Michael looked down. Yes, it was. He’d wanted something to make it look like he belonged. He pretended to be surprised. “Oh. Yeah, I guess it is. Do you want it back?” 

Ashton just looked at him for a long moment. His eyes were looking so bright under the lights hanging over the bar. He took a long drink, almost to stall for time. “No, you can hang on to it.” 

“I didn’t know you did stuff like this.” Michael said, more to fill the silence than anything else. 

“Like what? Have drinks? Go to bars?” 

“Yeah, exactly.” 

“I can do normal stuff. Here, come on.” He picked up his glass and made his way to a table. Michael dutifully followed. 

“Why’d you start doing the whole protection thing, anyway?” Someday, Michael would learn to sit with someone without saying the first thing that came to mind.

Ashton hummed a little bit, took another long drink. “My dad left when I was just little. I wanted to help support my family so I started working for Mei real young.”

“How young?”

“I don’t even know. 12, maybe? Anyway, a few years into that, some guys started coming around Mei’s, causing trouble. I started looking out for the place. Then some other businesses offered to pay me to look out for them too.”

“That must have been a lot for you, as a kid.”

“I guess so. It’s more complicated now. I, like, take care of bribes for inspections, hire contractors when they need them, keep the other gangs away. That sort of thing. Do you want to hear about this? It’s not so exciting for your Friday night.” 

“I want to hear. What about whatever deal you made at the restaurant that night.”

Ashton looked almost ashamed. He started spinning his now empty glass around and around. “I know. I never wanted to get mixed up in that. But I need the money. Mei’s asshole landlord is thinking gentrification is coming our way. He keeps upping her rent, hoping to force her out. I have dirt on him, I can make him sell the building to me. But I still need to have the money for the sale.”

“If that’s true.” Michael paused. “Why are you paying me so much? 50 dollars is too much for the amount of work you have me do.”

Ashton shrugged like a shudder. The glass’ spinning picked up speed. “I wanted to help you. I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. I wanted to do something undeniably good.”

Michael reached over, stilling the glass, keeping his fingers on top of Ashton’s. He felt bold, Blue Moon confidence brimming in him. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to. I admire you.” Ashton finally met his eyes. “There must’ve been a time when I had a list of things I wouldn’t do. These days, I’ve done almost everything. I can’t remember the last time something felt like too much.” 

Michael leaned in just a little bit. “I think you’re the best person I know. I think you're good to your core.”

“You just don’t know me that well.”

“I don’t need to. I can see it. I can tell.” 

Ashton leaned the rest of the way. His kiss felt desperate, like he needed to feel it deep to believe the words Michael had said. He tasted like whiskey. His hand not holding Michael’s came up to tangle in his hair. Michael was caught off guard by it, not reacting as fast as he should’ve. By the time he was preparing to give back that intensity, Ashton was leaning away. 

“Shit. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.” He snarled. He grabbed the empty glass and smashed it on the ground viciously. The bartender looked up sharply from the across the room. “I couldn’t do one thing. One fucking thing.” 

“Ashton-” Michael reached for him. Ashton jerked back roughly. 

“Go home, Michael.” He pushed away from the table. His movements were all jagged and violent. He was heading towards the bar, leaned over to talk to the bartender. Michael could hear even from where he sat. “Call him a cab. Don’t let him take the bus. Take it out of what you owe me.” And then he walked out the door and was gone. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with the referenced homophobia. It's all off camera but. I feel like I say this all the time but. Be kind to yourself! Read what your comfortable with.

Michael walked to school miserably, had been spending every day miserable since Ashton pushed him away almost a week ago. He was still trying to decide what he should do when a working Monday came around, if he could act as if nothing had happened. 

He happened to look back and there, only a few feet behind him, was Luke Hemmings, son of one of the richest and most prestigious lawyers around. Michael was so surprised he stopped walking. Luke almost passed him by before catching sight of Michael. He stuttered to a stop.

“Clifford?” He said. They had never been close, the divide between the haves and have-nots never more apparent, but they had a bunch of classes together. 

“Hemmings. What are you doing walking in this neighborhood?”

“Just. You know. Walking. Getting some. Air.”

“Uh-huh.” 

They were interrupted by a van pulling up alongside them. Two men, armed with guns hopped out and ushered Michael and Luke both, with yelling and gestures, into the back of the van. They drove for a long time, one of the men keeping a steady gun on them. They arrived at an abandoned warehouse surrounded by other empty buildings. The one with the gun kept it trained on them while the other attached one of each of their wrists to piping running along the wall with zip ties pulled too tight. 

Then, he stepped back from them, nodding, satisfied. He pointed to the crest of both of their shirts. 

“I’ve heard a lot about that school. Place for politician’s kids and shit. Couldn’t believe it when I saw two of you just standing there on the sidewalk.”

Michael closed his eyes, resisted the urge to groan aloud. 

The man was practically rubbing his hands together gleefully. “Alright, you first. What’s your name.” He pointed to Luke. 

“Luke. Hemmings.” Luke was shaking. 

“You the son of that lawyer?” 

“That’s right.” 

The gangster’s face split into the biggest smile. “Fuck yeah. Ok, your turn.” He turned to Michael. “Who’s your father?”

“He’s not in the picture.”

“Your mom some kind of heiress or something?”

“She’s a waitress.”

“Cut the shit. Where’s your money come from?”

“It doesn’t. I’m at school on scholarship.”

The gangster backhanded Michael hard. By the time Michael’s vision cleared, there was a gun in his face. 

“Got a reason why I shouldn’t shoot you right here, then?” 

Luke let out a harsh sob.

“I have a reason,” Michael held up his unzip-tied hand pacifyingly. “Do you know Ashton Irwin?”

“I’ve heard of him.” 

“I work for him. He won’t like to hear he has to replace me.”

“Don’t fuck with me. You seriously work for Irwin?” He looked impressed. “What do you do?”

“Collection.” 

“Interesting. You think he’ll pay something for you?”

“Call him. Ask.” The man walked away and Michael let his bravado collapse, his shoulders slumping. Would Ashton pay for him? Would he even care after last week? Would he be happy to be rid of him?

Luke beside him was still sobbing, burying his entire face into the elbow of his free arm. 

“It’ll be fine, Luke,” Michael tried to sound comforting. “Your dad will pay them a boat load of money and they’ll take you home. It’ll be a great story to tell in school tomorrow.”

“Except my dad won’t pay the money.”

“Of course he will. He’s so rich, he won’t even notice the difference.”

“No,” Luke’s tears made his eyes look very blue, “my dad kicked me out two weeks ago.”

“What? Why?”

“He found out I’m gay. He gave me 20 minutes to get out of his house. He said he never wanted to see me again.”

“Oh shit.” 

“He’s going to be like ‘you want to shoot my son? Great. Go for it.’”

Michael closed his eyes briefly. When he opened them, the men were walking back. One held out a cell phone. “Irwin wants to hear you’re still alive.”

Michael took it and held it up to his ear. “Ashton?”

“Michael. Did they hurt you?” Ashton’s voice sounded so good, Michael almost joined Luke crying. 

“No.”

“You’re not just saying that?”

“No. I’m ok.”

“Alright. It’s going to be fine, ok? I’m coming to get you.”

The gangster gestured for his phone back and Michael leaned away, pressing it closer to his ear. 

“They have my friend, too.”

Luke looked up, shocked. 

Ashton sighed deeply. “You’re not going to leave him.” A statement. 

“No.”

“Ok. Give the phone back.” 

Michael held it out reluctantly.

The man listened. “You want both of them? Why?”

He walked away listening to the answer.

“You don’t have to do this.” Luke whispered. 

“Don’t be stupid,” Michael said, “of course I do.”

“Thank you.”

“You can stop your worrying. Ashton’s coming. He’ll take care of everything.”

“Who is he?” 

“He’s. Um. Sort of like my boss? And sort of. Like.” He tried to think a word for what Ashton was to him. 

“Your boyfriend?” Luke tried to guess.

“Definitely not that. It’s. Complicated.” 

“But you think he’ll come?”

“Yeah, he said he’s on his way.”

“Okay,” Luke rubbed his eyes, momentarily pulling himself together. “So is he some kind of criminal?”

“Um.” Michael wasn’t sure how to answer that either. “I guess kind of.”

“Wow. Your life is way more Fast and the Furious than what I gathered from Algebra class.” But Luke looked happy by this distraction, by the knowledge that Michael knew a criminal, a strange thing to take comfort in. 

“Yeah,” Michael admitted. “So. It’s all going to work out. It’ll be fine.”

“Ok,” Luke tried to settle into a more comfortable position against the wall. There wasn’t really a way of doing that. “I believe you. I can’t wait to see this person. I hope they look like Vin Diesel.” 

Michael laughed. “Perfect twins,” he said. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You might be thinking: "what are the odds this random guy would've heard of Ashton?"   
> And to that I would say: "Shhh."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends, this is the chapter with the gun violence. Be warned.  
> Also, (weird transition) thank you for reading! I've been coming up out of a blue weekend and posting on here has been making me smile. So thank you for coming along with me.

Ashton appeared 20 minutes later. He walked in with a duffel bag slung over one shoulder. He dropped it in front of the gangsters. If he looked at Michael, it was too fast to see. 

“60k, as agreed.”

Michael sucked in a quick breath. So much money. 

“About that.” The gangsters had taken something since the phone call, clearly to celebrate their impending windfall. They both seemed jerky with enthusiasm for themselves. “They’re 60 a piece now.”

Ashton didn’t blink at this development. “If you’re getting into the hostage business, you are not going to want to get a reputation as people who don’t keep their deals.”

“We’ll worry about that later, won’t we?” When he grinned, it showed missing teeth far back in his smile. “You take your boy, bring us another 60 and we’ll give you the other one.”

“You think I’m stupid? As soon as I leave here you’ll set up a drop with his parents, then let me take care of getting him home.”

“Well, what are you going to do then, Irwin? You leave without your boy today, we’re shooting him the minute you're out of the building.”

Luke was back to crying. Michael held it together by just looking steadily at Ashton. Not all of him at once, but one piece at a time. His shoulders pulling at his shirt. His knee showing through the hole in his jeans. 

“You’ll shoot him, just like that? Here?” Ashton sounded more curious than concerned. 

“Nobody'll be in this building for years. Probably next time it gets used will be for the next body someone needs to dump. Toss the gun in a river and be done with it. Only one hurt is your boy.” 

“Interesting.” A gun appeared in Ashton’s hands faster than the eye could follow. He fired two shoots before either of them could even grab for their weapons. The spray of blood was almost artistic, painting the concrete where they’d been standing. 

Michael was staring at that expanding red so intently he didn’t notice Ashton until he’d crouched down in front of him. Seeing him, suddenly close, Michael jerked back, digging the zip tie into the flesh of his wrist. 

“I’m sorry,” Ashton said, holding a knife now, reaching to cut through the plastic, “it’s alright. I'm getting you out of here.” 

Michael let Ashton saw all the way through, his arm dropping numb before he lurched to press his face into Ashton’s chest. He couldn’t not. He just needed it too much. Ashton was shocked by this action. He lifted his hand to tentatively press into Michael’s neck, rubbing small circles.

“Let’s get you to Mei, yeah?” he whispered into Michael’s ear. “Calum’s there. We’ll bring your friend.”

At the mention of Luke, Michael lifted his head. Luke was so pale, paler even than usual somehow. It made Michael get it together. “Ok, yeah, I’m ok. You can get Luke free now.” 

Ashton moved away to do so and the lack of his presence made Michael feel fragile, leaning unevenly and not sure how to correct the angle. Once Luke was cut loose, they both made for the warehouse door, trying not to look at the bodies they were leaving behind. Michael sat in the front of Ashton’s inconspicuous car, Luke in the back. Michael looked hard at Ashton while he put the car in drive and accelerated sharply. 

“Are you ok?” he said. A tick jumped in Ashton’s jaw. 

“Yeah.”

“Are you sure?” Michael knew his voice sounded too meek but he couldn’t stop.

“Yeah,” the tick jumped again, but then Ashton looked at him and came back to himself, reeled himself in. It was the same physical shift he’d witnessed before. Ashton shaking out his shoulders, smoothing his brow, summoning a smile. “How bout you?”

“I’m ok.”

“How bout you, back there?” Ashton’s eyes lifted to the rearview mirror. 

Luke wiped his eyes on the sleeve of his school shirt. “Yup. Ok.” 

“Good,” Ashton turned into traffic, careful and precise. “We’ll all be fine once we get to Mei’s.”

“Who’s Mei?” Luke asked.


	8. Chapter 8

Calum hugged Ashton and then turned to Michael, threw out his arms. 

“Come on, you too.” Michael went dutifully. Calum squeezed tight enough to hurt his lungs and then held him out at arms length. 

“I thought I told you to stay out of trouble.”

“I don’t remember you saying that.” 

“Well. I thought it.”

“Enough,” Mei shouldered through them, pushed Michael and Luke down at the little kitchen table with a sharp jab of her bony wrists. “Eat first, talk later.” 

She placed a steaming bowl of soup in front of each of them. She stayed until they started taking bites and then headed back to manning her kitchen. 

“I’ll take you home when you're done.” Ashton said. 

Luke looked mournfully down at his bowl. “You can’t.”

“Of course I can.”

“No.” Luke’s voice choked and he couldn’t go on. 

“Luke’s dad kicked him out.” Michael chimed in helpfully.

Ashton reared back. “Why?”

Luke looked up at Michael. Michael shook his head. “It’s up to you. I’m not saying it. But it’ll be fine, if you do.”

Luke’s hand clenched around the spoon. Then, finally, “I’m gay.”

“Jesus, Ash,” Calum actually laughed, “how do you find every gay in need within a 100 mile radius?”

“Just me and Luke,” Michael said, indignant, “that’s not every gay.” 

“And me.” Calum grinned and swiped a bite from his soup. “How do you think I’m paying for medical school with my parents owning a hardware store.”

“Your parents own a hardware store?”

“Yeah. Hood’s. You know, the place you collect money from twice a month?”

“Those are your parents?”

“How did you not know that? It says Hood’s in giant letters! They have a picture of all of us at the register!”

Ashton jumped in. “Back to the point. How have you been living?”

Luke’s face fell, the attention back on him. “Motel 6. I have like, a trust fund but I can only use it for school until I turn 21. So, I’m just. Burning through the money I had in savings. I don’t know what else to do.”

“But you’re still going to school?” Ashton asked. 

“Yeah. I can eat lunch and. Sneak some extra to eat for dinner. And my dad paid the tuition through the year. So I wanted to try and graduate.” He fixed his eyes on his soup. “I don’t know if it’s going to happen though.”

“That sucks that you went through that alone,” Calum sort of danced his fingers across the table and let them rest on Luke’s arm, “But listen, you should know, everyone at this table gets it. And maybe we had really really different lives up till now, but from here on, I think I can speak for everyone when I say. We’re here for you. We’ve got you.”

Luke's eyes shut tight. “I don’t think there’s that much you can do.”

“Well, for starters my housemate’s doing study abroad this semester. Why don’t you come stay with me?”

“That’s a great idea, Luke.” Ashton said. “You can go with Cal when you’ve finished eating. Give me the motel key, I can get your stuff and drop it off when I’m done taking Michael home.”

“I’m done,” Michael said, “I’m ready to go home now.” He felt the same sort of bone deep exhaustion he’d felt the day Calum had fixed his shoulder. He and Ashton stood up. “I’ll see you later, ok Luke?” 

“Michael, wait! About today. I.” Luke stopped. “I don’t know how to say. But I.”

“It’s ok. You don’t have to.” Michael wasn’t used to trying to be comforting but he put one hand on Luke’s shoulder the way he’d seen people do in movies. “Calum’s right. We’re here for you.”

“Thank you,” Luke attempted to make eye contact with them each. “What I want to say is thank you.” 

Ashton put his hand on Luke’s other shoulder, linking all of them together momentarily. “You’re welcome,” he said and then pulled away. “Come on, Michael. Let’s get you home.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's the end! Thank you for tuning in! Hope every person out there who read this is doing well, safe and happy. And if you're having bad brain days, dude I'm with you but we'll be alright. If anyone out there needs to hear this: it's gunna be ok. Hang on and I will to. We'll make it.

In the car, Michael didn’t waste any time. He remembered how quickly they would arrive at his house. 

“I don’t think I’m the right person for the job you gave me anymore.” He started. 

Ashton’s face in profile always looked sharp. But the tightening around his jaw only added to it. “Right. Okay.”

“It’s not that I don’t appreciate everything you’ve done for me. It’s just-”

“No, I get it.” Ashton interrupted. “After what you saw me do today, it makes sense you don’t want to be a part of that anymore.”

“What? No! That’s not what I meant at all!” Michael twisted in his seat, so he could face Ashton completely. “What you did today, you saved my life. If it wasn’t for you, they would’ve killed me first thing.”

“But you don’t want to work for me anymore.”

“No, I mean, yes. But because for one, I was thinking maybe you could ask Luke if he wants the job. He needs it more than me. He could make some money while he lives with Calum.”

“That’s a nice idea.” Ashton pulled into Michael’s driveway. “I’ll ask him when I drop off his stuff.

“Good. And also, for two.” Michael gathered up some courage. “I know your business doesn’t have an HR department, but if you did I think they’d be pretty upset about the giant crush I have on my boss.”

Ashton looked down, his cheeks pink, almost like he was blushing. “Really?”

“Yeah.” Michael grinned. “I was thinking if you take Luke on he could be like your good deed. And maybe I could be something else to you.”

Ashton turned off the car, turned so his body mirrored Michael’s “You’d want that? Even after what you saw me do today?”

Michael nodded. “And about that. I was thinking you shouldn’t be alone today. I know you said you were fine. But I’d like to keep you company, if you want. And my mom’s going to be at work till late. You could drop off Luke’s stuff and then come back here. Watch a movie with me. What do you think?”

“Okay, I mean, I’ll have to take care of a couple things from what happened today,” Ashton said, “but I could come by after? 

“Great,” Michael got out of the car and then leaned back in. “So I’ll see you soon?” 

“Okay,” Ashton said again and then shook his head at himself like he knew how he was being. “I’ll see you soon.” 

Inside, Michael took a shower and then, after some deliberation, put on his coziest clothes, sweatpants and a long sleeved shirt oversized enough that the sleeves fell over his hands. It had been a long time since he’d had anyone over. He wanted it to be casual and easy. Just two people spending time together away from any pressure. 

He put some water on the stove to boil, added spaghetti, found a jar of sauce buried in the back of a cabinet. 

Being with someone is always a gamble, a risk every time, Michael thought. He’d gone too long thinking the best thing to do was not let anyone in at all. 

He heard the sound of tires on the gravel and was at the window in time to see Ashton getting out of his car. He had a pizza box in his hands. His hair looked different, pushed all to one side like he’d tried to make himself look nice for this. Michael was there at the door when he’d climbed the steps. 

“Hey,” Ashton said. He sounded nervous. “I brought pizza.”

“I made pasta,” Michael responded, looking over his shoulder at the pot boiling on the stove. 

Ashton threw back his head to laugh, showing the line of his throat. “I guess we won’t go hungry then.”

“Guess not.” Michael laughed too. 

This is the right choice, he thought. He opened the door wider and gave a welcoming gesture with the sweep of his arm, stepping back into his house to let Ashton in. 


End file.
